


Former Life

by Missing_Intestines_18



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missing_Intestines_18/pseuds/Missing_Intestines_18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Engineer stumbles upon a remnant of Soldier's past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hidden

**Author's Note:**

> So I began writing this, like, two and a half years ago. I was an intense TF2 player back then (I wanna get back into it) and I fell in love with the fandom, how loose the backgrounds are and how deep the mercs' personalities can be. There's so much room for creativity and originality, and I came up with so many great ideas that sit unfinished. 
> 
> This story was one I was particularly proud of. It required a bit of research but it was worth it. I originally posted it on TF2chan and received positive comments, and then later on fanfiction.net. I think it deserves a bit more attention, as does another Medic/Scout story I've been sitting on. 
> 
> So I'm just gonna post what I have so far and see what happens.

Dell didn't know why he and John had grown so close. For many years, before he had been contracted by BLU, it had been his mindset that all he needed were his machines; crafting from metal was less complicated than forging real friendships, he had reasoned. Creating his contraptions all by his lonesome gave him great satisfaction and happiness, so why add a carbon-based variable to the mix? And yet, for nearly a year and a half, he found himself trudging bruised and bloody down to the Soldier's bunker of a room for talk of the day's battle over some beers. It quickly became something Dell looked forward to after each battle with RED, and he always hastened to meet John, no matter how sore he was.

He wasn't exactly sure why they got along so well. They were both loners (John more so than he), both in their early forties, both from the Midwest. However, John was loud where Dell was soft-spoken, harsh while he was gentle, quick to anger while he was patient. But as soon as they both slumped into their respective chairs and opened their bottles, Dell thought, all the differences in the world wouldn't have mattered.

No, their kinship didn't make complete sense in the Engineer's calculating head, but he didn't care. It was nice having someone to chat and joke with in the midst of all the war and violence. The Soldier had gotten him through some pretty gruesome matches, and for that, Dell was eternally grateful. John was his rock, his anchor, his provision dispenser. And he wouldn't change their companionship for the world.  
. . . . . . .

The day's battle had been particularly nasty. Each of the mercenaries of BLU had to be brought back through Respawn at least five times, and the process of being deconstructed, reanimated, then reconstructed was tolling on the body and mind. Not that dying in the first place was all kittens and rainbows, but Dell thought it sometimes less painful than being brought back. There were times where he wished he wouldn't be brought back.

The men of BLU shuffled out of the Respawn room silently, their eyes on their feet. They had been defeated, and having already been shamed by the Announcer, all they wanted to do was get back to base. Even Soldier, who almost always offered words of congratulations and encouragement or scolding and criticisms at the end of a battle, was relatively quiet.

They went their separate ways when they reached the barracks. Dell and John walked side by side, but they did not speak. They made their way to the kitchen and grabbed two beers each from the refrigerator, then went downstairs to the Soldier's room. As soon as the door was closed, Dell slumped into a chair, pulling both his goggles and his helmet off and running a hand over his thin, stubbly hair. John also removed his helmet and jacket, and took his own seat. They sat in silence for a minute or two, staring at the floor, the ceiling, the brown bottles clenched in their hands.

Finally, Dell let out a long sigh. "M' sorry I didn't git that Heavy in time, Solly."

John looked up and gave him a grim smile. "My ass isn't the only one you should be watching. You had your hands full with Sean and that damn RED Spy." Which was true; the BLU Scout had had the opposing Pyro on his heels and needed help, and the Spy had been slapping sapper after sapper on Dell's buildings. "I shoulda stopped that Demoman before he blew you and your sentry sky high."

Dell grimaced and took a large gulp of his beer. "Don't remind me. That hurt like a Mother Hubbard, I'll tell ya..." he muttered, then his face broke into a small smile. "But you were really on a roll at the end. I swear, the heads were flyin' like birds!"

"Eight in a row; those maggots didn't know what hit 'em!" His companion laughed too, and suddenly the atmosphere was a bit more relaxed.

They talked on about their various kills for a while. Laughing at death was the best way to stay positive, they found, and instead of commenting on the pain, they commented on the spectacular fatalities they had endured, the height their bodies flew, the amount of chunks they had exploded into.

Their beers were soon gone, but John suggested they get good and drunk. Dell agreed.

"I'll try to get some booze from that stingy Nazi," John said, standing. "They may be evil, but them Krauts sure can make beer."

Dell didn't comment on John's choice of words. He didn't like hearing the Medic referred to that way. Wilhelm was a good man, and the past is the past. But Solly was Solly, so he let it slide.

Humming  _The Star Spangled Banner_ to himself, John left for the infirmary to get more beer. Dell sat back, and looked about the room. The Soldier's quarters were a small, bare, cement cubicle of a room, with scratches and cracks in the grey walls. The only decorations were a few war propaganda posters, a ragged American flag, and a heavily used dart board with a crude, hole-ridden drawing of Adolf Hitler's face tacked in the middle. Other than that, there was a plain bed, a squat dresser, a desk, and a couple of chairs. John's trusty shovel sat propped in the corner.

Dell smiled. He thought the room was quaint and rather cozy. It smelled of sweat and blood and metal and John. His own room was a cluttered mess of blueprints and tools and scrap metal and prototypes. He could learn something from Solly and his crisp, military-style bedspread.

As his eyes took in the room, he spotted an abnormality. From under the dressed poked the withered corner of a photograph.

Now, Dell wasn't one to snoop, but it was so tempting he gave into the urge. He stood and knelt before the bureau, pulling the photo out and gingerly brushing off the dust.

The photograph was grainy and black and white. On it, there was a thin, fair-haired woman in a flowered dress, leaning against a wire fence before a grassy plain. Beside her stood a young girl no older than six. She wore a white dress and had long dark hair in braids. Dell flipped the picture over. On the back in neat cursive was written, " _Audrey and Jane, 1930_ ".

The Texan furrowed his brow.  _1930? John would've been just a child around that time..._

Perhaps they were his mother and sister. John had never really talked about his childhood or adolescence, not even with Dell.

Carefully, the Engineer slid the photo back under the dresser.  _Perhaps he wants to keep that part of his life hidden_ , he thought.

Just as he climbed back into his chair, John returned, his muscled arms laden with fresh bottles with German labels.

"Wil actually gave 'em to ya?" Dell asked.

"Nah, I stole 'em," John said with a grin, laying the bottles on the bed.

Dell laughed and took the bottle John handed to him. They bantered and talked for a few more hours, and the photograph was pushed to the back of Dell's mind.


	2. Trigger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Played some more TF2 yesterday; K/D as Heavy was over 1.5 and I was an MVP a couple times, aw yeah, still got it.
> 
> Has anyone else had issues posting?
> 
> CC, plz.

Something about the photograph was itching at Dell's brain. He didn't know what, and that irked him even more.

Whenever he was down in John's room, his eyes lingered on the tiny off-white triangle under the bureau. He found it strange that John had not noticed it yet; the room was small and austere, and the Soldier could have quite the eye for detail. Yet, Dell dared not ask his friend about the picture, not yet, anyways. A man like John, who would occasionally talk to his shovel and had an ' _injure first, ask questions later_ ' attitude toward strangers, hardly seemed the type to have a perfect past.

_Then again, were any of the men employed by Mann Co. completely sane?_

"Whatcha lookin' at, Engie?"

Dell shook his head and returned his grey-blue eyes to John. "Nothin', pardner. Jus' wonderin' who would win in a wrestlin' match, Heavy or a grizzly bear."

John let out a bark of laughter. "You kiddin' me? I think even that hippie city-boy would know the answer to that!"

"Guess you're right," Dell agreed with a grin. "Mah older sister was built like Heavy, all muscles n' height n' such. I got the brain n' she got the brawn." Then, he casually added, "D'you have a sis, John?"

A strange expression crossed John's previously smiling face, part stony and part sad. It was gone in an instant, but Dell caught the look.

"No," the Soldier replied in as normal a voice he could muster.

He seemed quieter after that, as if Dell's question had stirred up memories he'd rather not remember. The Texan's sharp mind churned with John's reaction.

After Dell took his leave, he found himself wandering upstairs to the Spy's room. When he knocked on the door, the Frenchman answered. " _Monsieur Ingénieur_ , how unexpected. Come in, come in." He ushered the Engineer into his neat, rose-scented room and shut the door. "Now, how may I help you?" he inquired with a smile. Dell thought he looked like a fox.

"I jus' wanted ta ask you a couple'a questions, if ya don't mind," Dell said. He took a seat on a russet-colored Victorian chair.

"But of course," Pierre lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "What is it you would like to know,  _mon ami_?"

Dell shifted uncomfortably, wary of the quick-witted Spy. "What d'you know 'bout Solly?"

" _Soldat_?" he gave a throaty chuckle and tapped ashes into a marble bowl. "Not much, I'm ashamed to admit. He and the firebug have me drawing blanks," the Spy leaned forward. "It seems our friend the Soldier did not exist until he was fourteen."

"Didn't exist?" the Engineer's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "How's that possible?"

Pierre sighed a wisp of smoke. "There is no birth certificate, no record of baptism or any other religious event, no school or medical records- that is, until he entered high school. John Doe had a childhood most cryptic."

Dell pondered over what he had learned late into the night. His head ached as he tried to decipher the meaning of all this. It was killing him, a man so used to pursuing knowledge and coming to a conclusion easily.

He decided he must know the truth behind the picture and John's nonexistent adolescence. He hated to pry, but he was intrigued.  _Tomorrow_ , he thought.  _Tomorrow, I will know_.

Dell turned over in his bed and tumbled into dreams of cloudless skies, yellowed fields, and girls in white dresses.


	3. Breach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Numero 3. Funny to think I was 15-16 when I started this.
> 
> Enjoy!

Torrents of rain pelted the BLU base, thrumming against tin roofs. The grounds turned muddy and slick. From over his book, Dell watched Sean. The boy had his forehead pressed against a window, fogging it with warm sighs of breath. His eyes were half-lidded, bored and miserable.

_He's like a puppy with too much pent-up energy_ , the Engineer mused.

The rain had dampened all their moods. Even the Sniper, who was rarely seen about the main base, had emerged from his weathered camper van, complaining of the raindrops like bullets against his poor baby's roof.

Dell let out a long sigh. It was nearly noon, but he, Sniper, Scout, and Spy were the only ones awake. He assumed the other five were still sleeping. It was Sunday after all, and raining to boot. Wilhelm was usually an early bird, but he and his Heavy had left for bed rather early the night before; Dell could only imagine what went on behind those closed infirmary doors.

John, too, was usually up before anyone else to salute the dawn with his bugle, but on Sundays he slept in. He claimed that "even Commie-Nazi-Hippie-maggots would never attack on Sunday, except for them no-good Japs, but we sure showed them."

Dell closed John's battered and dog-eared copy of  _The Art of War_  and stood. He guessed Solly would be up by now, and he could return his book, as well as ask about the picture. He hadn't really thought of how he'd go about it; if it was still on the floor, he could just pick it up and act like he'd never seen it before, but what if John had found it?

_Ah, well_ , he thought, scratching his stubbly chin as he walked down the stairs to the Soldier's room. Just have to roll with the punches.

He knocked softly at John's door, poking his head in when he received no answer. "Solly?"

Inside, he saw dresser drawers and clothes strewn about the floor, sheets hanging haphazardly off the bed, the desk overturned. In the midst of the mess was John, curled on his side in his underclothes, back facing the door. He was mumbling incoherently to his shovel.

Dell stepped over the debris carefully, wearily, not wanting to alarm John. He had done this a few times before, once when he had lost his shovel, another time when there was a massive storm with thunder that sounded like detonating warheads. He usually snapped out of it pretty easily, but it made Dell worry.

"Solly," he murmured again as he approached the twitching man. "John..."

He knelt down next to him and reached out to touch his shoulder. The moment Dell's fingers brushed him, John lashed out blindly, trying to hit the other man.

He was yelling, almost screaming something over and over. Dell was thankful for the thick walls that surrounded them; no doubt they would have drawn a crowd otherwise.

John was strong, but his panic made him weak. The Texan was able to restrain him in his arms while he kicked.

"John! Y'gotta calm down, y'hear?" Dell exclaimed, trying to be heard over John.

He could now make out what the Soldier was shouting, but he didn't understand.

" _THAT'S NOT MY NAME!_ " John's face was red as a brick and his stormy blue eyes darted about wildly. " _DON'T CALL HER THAT! NOT MY NAME!_ "

He thrashed about for a few more minutes, and Dell had to hold on for dear life. Gradually, he calmed down, his yells and punches subsiding to hoarse utterings and feeble flails.

"John?" Dell loosened his hold on his friend and studied his face fretfully.

There was a vein throbbing in John's forehead, and his gaze was dull and reddened.

"Not... my name..." he murmured, and tears slid down his cheeks.


	4. Dissolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just finished revising my essay on Super Smash Bros. tourneys. I think it's pretty good. I'm glad my writing teacher is a cool grad student. Think I said "fuck" in my paper a few times.
> 
> So this chapter, I was criticized for Scout's (Sean's) accent. I myself live 40 minutes south of Boston, so I grew up hearing it a lot. I think it's okay, but I did some edits here to make it less heavy.
> 
> Whatcha think?

Dell was shocked. This was a first, seeing John cry, and he was never very good with these types of situations in the first place.

"Th-there there, Solly," he murmured, holding the weeping man close. "Y'dont hafta cry, buddy..."

"My _name_..." whimpered John. He clutched at Dell's shirt, and the Texan could feel the wet warmth seep through where the other man's face lay.

"Shhhh... s'alright..."

The Soldier sniffled and trembled in the Engineer's arms. Dell was unused to being the strong one. When things had become too stressful, it had been he who had wept, and Solly who had patted his back and muttered quiet words of condolence.

_I have to be strong for John_ , he thought,  _and put on a brave face_.

His calloused palm slowly rubbed circles on John's broad back. "Yer okay..." he whispered against his amber hair. The other man's tears had abated, his breaths now short, distraught huffs, his eyes shut tight.

Dell's back ached from the awkward position he was in; the taller man was practically in his lap, hunched over, with his face pressed into the Engineer's shoulder. They stayed wrapped around each other for a few more minutes until Dell thought his spine would snap.

"C'mon, pardner," he said softly, wrapping an arm around his friend's waist and struggling to his knees. "Up we go..."

He pulled John up slowly, thankful he was supporting his weight, and led him to his stripped bed. John lay down willingly on his side, curling his legs to his chest. Dell sat at the edge of the bed and watched the tense muscles in the Soldier's back twitch.

Dell was afraid. He didn't know what had set John off.  _'That's not my name?' What does that mean?_

He had completely forgotten why he had come down to Solly's room in the first place. The borrowed book lay amid the wreckage and the photo was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, Dell felt tired. His shoulders and arms ached from holding John. He squeezed next to his friend, and stroked his back until they both fell asleep.

. . . . .

The sound of careless footsteps tromping down the stairs roused Dell from his sleep. He didn't know how long he'd be out, but John was still asleep next to him. John had turned over in his sleep, and Dell could see the gritty trails his tears had left behind.

"Aw, jeez..."

Dell sat straight up and turned, seeing their visitor for the first time. Sean was standing in the doorway, looking around the room with a skeptical look. "Looks like tons o' fun and the Doc rubbed off on you two, eh, Hardhat?"

"Hush, boy," Dell grumbled and got up to meet him at the door. "Whaddaya want?"

The smug youngster smirked. "Just came down t'tell ya we don't gotta battle today."

"Today?"

"It's Monday, pops. Guess you n' Captain America ova' there were too  _busy_  t'notice." He gestured around the room with an unwrapped hand.

Dell reddened. "We didn't... s'not... aw, ta hell with ya. Why aren't we battlin'?"

"Too muddy. Nearly slipped joggin' today," the Scout replied. "Notha' day off. Good fo' you guys, huh?" He snickered and turned and walked back towards the stairs.

"We weren't... doin'... that!" Dell sputtered after him.

"Yeah, you keep tellin' y'self that, gramps."

Dell glared at Sean's back as he retreated up the stairs, his cheeks hot and flushed. He shut the door rather hard and spun around, grumbling.

John's dark azure eyes were half open. "Engie...?" he mumbled hoarsly.

The Engineer hurried over to him and helped him sit up. "Y'okay, buddy?"

"Yeah..." John rubbed his eyes and looked about numbly. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Dell quickly shook his head and laid a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Naw. I got you calmed down alright."

John let out a rattling sigh. "Sorry you had to see that, Dell..."

"Hey, don' worry," the Texan said with a small smile. "Yer okay now, John, and that's all I care 'bout."

The corners of the Soldier's lips quirked up a little, his expression almost bitter. "Yeah. John's okay."


	5. Stripped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one also received a bit of negativity. A couple people weren't a fan of the delivery of John's explanation, but I wasn't sure how to do it differently. Again, I did some tweaking to get it a bit more Soldier-like, so tell me if it's okay. If you wanna compare, this story is on fanfiction.net without my edits, under the same title.
> 
> Also, sorry about the length. I was pumping these out once every two days as the writing bug was strong within me. If I'm prompted to continue, I'll try to make the chapters longer. Another TF2 story I'm working on may be in the same format as Edgar the Fifth, like, just a big long story all in one chapter, but we'll see. Hopefully the writing bug will grace my presence again soon.
> 
> Comments make you credit to team!

Dell frowned. "Wanna tell me what's goin' on, buddy?"

John was silent for a few moments. He rubbed his eyes with calloused fingers, and let out a tired sigh. When he spoke, his voice carried a heaviness Dell could immediately feel.

"Engie... Dell... you know you're my best friend," John stared down at his hands. "And I guess it's about time I told someone..."

"Does... it have anythin' to do with that?" Dell pointed at the photo from before, lying on a pillow on the floor.

John snorted, leaning down to retrieve it. He turned it over in his hands carefully. "When'd you see it?"

"A week or so ago," the Engineer admitted. "But I figured y'wouldn't want me snoopin'."

The ghost of a smile crossed the Soldier's face. "Bet you were dying with curiosity, eh?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you, Dell," John chuckled quietly.

Even in this solemn atmosphere, Dell was eager to learn the story of the photograph. "So... wanna tell me 'bout it?"

His friend uttered a long sigh. His thumb traced the woman's face gently, almost affectionately. "Well... this is my mother, Audrey."

"She's mighty beautiful," Dell said softly.

"Yeah..." John allowed a small smile. "She was..."

"And the girl?"

"That..." His face suddenly looked ten years older, and his eyes were sad. "That's me."

Dell was startled. "Y-yer a  _lady_...?"

John looked at the Texan with a flare of his normal attitude. "You've seen me shower, do I LOOK like a woman to you?"

Dell's face reddened. "W-well... no, but..."

"I’ll just start from the beginning," the taller man said, almost exasperatedly. "Before I was born, my mother lost three babies. She was a nervous wreck, not right, and got worse when my father left, right after he got her pregnant with me. All she ever wanted was a little girl. But then I came out, a healthy, baby boy." His voice softened. "She named me Jane. I was born at home, so there was no birth certificate. She put me in skirts and dresses and let my hair grow long. For all the world knew, I was a girl. For all I knew, I was normal."

Dell touched his friend's rigid back, hoping to comfort him. "What about when y'got older?"

"Everything was fine until I turned eleven. Until then, everyone thought I was a girl. Then came facial hair, muscles, a deeper voice, all that shit. Puberty was a bitch." He gave a bark of laughter, but then his eyes became cold. "After we learned about puberty and sex in school, I put two and two together. One day, I just snapped. I yelled at my mother, called her crazy, cut off all my hair, tore up all my dresses. I demanded she treat me like a boy, call me her son instead of her daughter. I... I hated her so much." He clenched his fists. "When I finally went back to school, I told everyone to call me John instead of Jane. The older kids would taunt me, say my mother was crazy, call me 'doll-face'... it made me hate myself, and the other kids, hell, anyone that knew me before I became John. That's why I wanted to join the army, but since I had no birth certificate, I was never drafted. When I went to talk to the recruiters personally, and they asked around town about me, they rejected me because I 'used to be a girl'. I never returned home after I went to Poland."

Both men were quiet for a few minutes, John staring at the floor, Dell staring at John. Finally, Dell broke the silence.

"Umm... do I still call ya 'John'?"

The Soldier’s grim expression changed into a hard grin, and he gave his friend a playful shove. "Yes, stupid grease monkey. I'm a man, aren't I?"

Dell grinned back. "Yeah, sorry. Jus' checkin'."

"Thanks, Dell." John leaned over and gave Dell an awkward hug, setting the Engineer's cheeks ablaze. "I’ve been tired of talking to Shovel about it."

Dell patted John's arm. "Don't mention it, pardner."

They spent the next hour reassembling John's room, meaningless conversation passing between them.


End file.
